


Finished

by Manna



Series: The 7K Series [1]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:06:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manna/pseuds/Manna





	Finished

Avon closed his eyes.

He lay on the bed, only half-undressed because he was busy, things to do, no time for this. It wasn't that he'd ever thought there was anything _wrong_ with masturbation. But it annoyed him that the need, the urge, was that little bit outside his control. This, then was a compromise.

"Blake."

The name was the only word he allowed himself. His imagination could supply the rest, but his own voice, out loud, saying that name in that way, was irreplaceable. Still, he kept it muffled in the crook of his elbow. It resonated through him, familiar and strange, the keystone of the fantasy.

Tomorrow, they would reach Lurgan's coordinates. When they had destroyed Star One, it would be finished, over and done with. He would be dead, or he would have Liberator and his freedom. Sometimes he almost thought he didn't care which. The abject stupidity of _that_ made his hatred for Blake sharpen into an almost-pain he could only banish with equally sharp words.

'I never realized. You really do hate me, don't you?'

Really, Avon had to admire the timing. After so many months—years now—of daily prayers that Blake would never notice, of nightly hopes that he might. Finally, Blake had seen it and his choice of words had told Avon everything he needed to know. Then there was nothing left to be done but to ask for Liberator. A formality. A victory robbed of triumph because, at almost the last moment, Blake had realised.

Avon could smile at the irony, as he shifted on the bed, resting his knee against the wall, pressing back into the pillow. Soon it would be finished and he wanted that, very, very much. To be free.

"Blake."

"Yes, Avon?"

Blake stood in the doorway, his expression hidden by the light from the corridor behind him. His voice was just as unreadable.

Oh.

Oh, damn.

Oh, no.

An attempt to scramble for the sheet would have lost more dignity than it gained, so Avon settled for as much restrained indignation as anyone could be expected to muster under the circumstances.

Maybe, just maybe, somehow, he hadn't seen.

"Is it too much to expect that you could _knock_, Blake? The door was locked."

"No, it wasn't. It wasn't even properly closed."

And, of course, I knew he'd be along to check how things were progressing because he couldn't trust any of us to just get on with things on our own, could he? I wanted this and even Blake has to see it.

Humiliation fed anger, fuel for an always-smouldering fire. Stupid, obvious and pathetic. Oh, yes, _how_ pathetic.

"Blake."

In another second he would have summoned up something blistering, something to drive Blake out of the cabin, but instead Blake crossed the room and sat on the bed beside him and Avon found he couldn't speak at all.

Avon waited as the seconds crawled past. He couldn't imagine anything Blake could say which wouldn't make him want to die from shame. Or just maybe kill someone. Instead, Blake simply lay down beside him, resting his hand lightly on Avon's shoulder for a moment, before stroking it gently across his chest.

No words. Words had never done them any good before. So just enjoy this. Blake's hand moving over him. Exploring. Blake's lips briefly against his throat, once, then, when he didn't object, again and again.

In the dim light from the corridor he could see the curled hair that he could smell, so close. A sharp, almost bitter scent. So that was what Blake smelled like. Avon laughed, so that Blake lifted his head with a question in his eyes.

"I'll tell you, ah, later."

"I wasn't trying to make you laugh."

"Sorry. I was thinking..."

"Hmm." With a brief, wry smile, Blake leaned forwards and kissed him.

And I always thought having your heart in your mouth was just a saying.

"Blake."

Another kiss silenced him, then the lips moved away. Back to his throat, his ear, his shoulder, his chest. Hands on him again, stroking lightly over his chest, moving down—slowly—finally?to enclose him. Blake's body pressed hot against his side. Avon began to feel a little dizzy with sensation. The ever-present noise of Liberator in flight was smothered into silence and all he could hear was the whisper of skin on skin, thick breathing, someone moaning quietly, and then not quietly at all.

"Blake." Barely a word at all, now.

Kisses muffled his moans, but not nearly enough. He thought vaguely about the open door. Oh, God, the others would hear him. Avon turned his head, buried his face in Blake's shoulder, and gave himself up completely to the pleasure.

He wanted it never to end, never to finish. But of course, it had to.

He had to open his eyes again.

With the door closed, the only light was from the lamp over table where he had abandoned the charges, half-completed. Sharp tang of explosives and the taste of his own skin. The cool, empty air beside him. His own quick breathing and the distant hum of Liberator's drive. Tomorrow, Star One. Tomorrow, there would be an end to it. Tomorrow, it would be finished. And, yes, he wanted it finished.

Avon closed his eyes.

"Blake." And then, "Blake, _yes_".

Yes. He wanted it.

Finished.


End file.
